The Thin Grey Line: Breaking the Oath
by Cyclone
Summary: As the Earth Alliance fights desperately to hold off the Minbari's genocidal rampage, humanity plays a desperate gamble for survival.
1. Prologue

Title: The Thin Grey Line: Breaking the Oath (0/?) 

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Nothing worse than on the shows, except maybe language.

Spoilers: After the end of one and before the beginning of the other.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: As the Earth Alliance fights desperately to hold off the Minbari's genocidal rampage, humanity plays a desperate gamble for survival.

Author's Note: Beware the vorpal plot bunny.

* * *

Cmdr. John David Sheridan, EarthForce Navy, waited. 

He'd been to Earthdome before, but the secrecy behind this meeting was unnerving, especially considering how badly the attempted peace negotiations had gone.

"The president will see you now, Commander."

That, too, was another reason he was anxious. It wasn't every day a commander met with the president of the Earth Alliance, even one who had scored a major victory... not that killing the Black Star had had any actual impact on the war.

He nodded to the aide, "Thank you."

He walked into the office and saluted, but before he could speak, President Elizabeth Levy of the Earth Alliance spoke, "Ah, Captain Sheridan, welcome."

"Commander Sheridan, ma'am," he corrected.

"Not anymore," she said, picking up a small velvet-covered box from her desk and handing it to him. "Congratulations, Captain. Go ahead; put it on."

He accepted the box and opened it, revealing the captain's insignia on it. With a mental shrug, he complied and pinned the insignia on his collar.

He waited again as she wandered over to the window and stared outside. There had to be more to this than that. A mere promotion would hardly be reason enough to require the president's presence... and even if it did, it wouldn't have been so informal.

"For a fifth time, Captain, the human race faces extinction," she said quietly. "The history of our planet is the widest-known and best-kept secret in the galaxy."

"Yes, Madam President," he nodded solemnly. The secret she spoke of was known -- in one form or another -- by practically every human being in the galaxy... but if any non-human had heard it, they weren't saying. After the last time, humanity had risen from the ashes, lessened in some ways, but strengthened in that **this** time, they did it on their own.

And now all of it was about to be destroyed again.

"What you don't know, Captain, what very few even on Earth know, is that we didn't destroy all our old ships," she said. **That** struck Sheridan as a surprise. Even with the lead-in... that they would risk breaking the treaty...

"Now, Captain," she said, turning to face him, "I'm asking you -- asking, not ordering -- to break the vow our species made over two hundred years ago."

"But, ma'am," he protested, "if we do that..."

"We have to survive the Minbari before we can start worrying about them, Captain," she pointed out. "We've already got a task force assembled, one hundred thousand of our best and brightest. We have a fleet of the old ships and fighters, hidden in the Pegasus galaxy. We have a ship, one of the old line; she's been in storage on the moon until she was needed, and she's ready to fly. All we need now is a mission commander. Do you accept, Captain?"

Sheridan thought about it. Considering what would happen if the Children of Shadow were still out there...

...was exactly what was happening now, they really didn't have a choice.

He stood at attention, "Yes, Madam President. I accept."

* * *

Captain Sheridan resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the arm rest, tap his feet, do **something** to pass the time and bleed off nervous energy while he waited for the report from Engineering. It was amazing what a difference two hundred years made. The ship was huge, almost as large as an _Explorer_-class, and the design was amazingly spacious. 

Her drives were already up and running by the time Sheridan had arrived, but even so, she still felt deserted and gave off a tomb-like feel whenever he walked her corridors, despite the task force of 100,000 people aboard. She had been the first of her line, originally built as a colony ship, minimally armed but able to defend herself. She had been pressed into service in the last war of that era, though, and had undergone extensive refits before being mothballed as a last-ditch resort.

Now she would truly live up to her name.

If they succeeded and returned in time, she would be an Angel, saving humanity from the brink of extinction.

And if they failed or were too late, she would become an Ark for the task force aboard her... who would be the last of the human race.

"Captain, Engineering," the comm unit built into his arm rest burbled. "Final systems check is complete. We're as ready to launch as we'll ever be."

That was Cmdr. Karen Leeds, his Engineering officer. Her record spoke for itself, but Sheridan had never actually met her before coming aboard. Earthdome had begun recruiting the task force as far back as the disastrous attack on Sh'Lekk'Tha; in twelve seconds, forty EarthForce ships had been annihilated by a mere dozen Minbari war cruisers. While he understood the need, Sheridan had felt a little leery about working with a crew he hadn't gotten a feel for yet, but they were trying.

"Thank you, Engineering," he replied. "Take us out, Lieutenant."

"Aye, Captain," acknowledged Lt. Steven Hunter, helmsman and navigations officer, as he eased the _Ark Angel_ out of the lunar bunker for the first time in over two hundred years.

"Comm, give me ship-wide."

"You have ship-wide," said Specialist Erin Lynn.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Sheridan spoke into the comm in his arm rest, "all of you know why we're here and what's on the line. Each of us was chosen for a reason, even if none of us on this ship know what that reason is. Earthdome has placed its trust in us, so **someone** there thinks we're damn good at our jobs. We all know what we hope to find on the other end of this trip, but two hundred years is a long time. Whatever we find, whatever happens, I have my faith in you."

"We're in position, Captain."

"Engineering, Bridge," Sheridan said. "Is the fold system ready?"

"Yes, sir. Fold system is operational."

"Commence fold."

* * *

On a planet circling a distant star, the Awareness stirred.

* * *

Author's Postscript: 

Yes, yes, I know. I shouldn't be starting yet another WIP, but notice that I'm broadening my horizons. I don't usually write non-Xander/non-Ranma 'fics.


	2. Chapter 1

Title: The Thin Grey Line: Breaking the Oath (1/?) 

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Nothing worse than on the shows, except maybe language.

Spoilers: After the end of one and before the beginning of the other.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: As the Earth Alliance fights desperately to hold off the Minbari's genocidal rampage, humanity plays a desperate gamble for survival.

Author's Note: Beware the vorpal plot bunny.

* * *

It was the eve of the Third Age of mankind, during the height of the Earth-Minbari War.

The Pegasus mission was born out of desperation. A gigantic ship sent to break a vow made over two hundred years ago. But two hundred years is a long time. It was our last, best hope... for survival.

One hundred thousand people, all alone in the night.

The year is 2246. The name of the ship is _Ark Angel_.

* * *

For such a young race, the Earth Alliance had made many allies, particularly after they assisted the League of Non-Aligned Worlds in the Dilgar War. When the Earth-Minbari War began, the Earth Alliance rapidly understood just how much those alliances were worth.

Even this latest gamble was tinged by doubt.

Humanity had made allies before, under similar circumstances, and it was in their care that they had left this last ace in the hole.

It was something Sheridan tried very hard not to think about.

"Defold in T-minus one minute."

Sheridan's gaze snapped up to the main monitor. Folding was very different from traveling through hyperspace. There was no sense of motion, just an odd vibration. No beacons, no maneuvering, just setting a destination and riding it out.

It was extremely unsettling.

All that wasn't even including the nauseating optical effect, as everything seemed to color shift and fade in and out of focus wherever he looked. That was why he had spent the entire trip staring into his lap.

He watched as the main monitor counted down. When it hit zero, they would be in normal space again, and it switch to an external camera feed.

* * *

Captain K'Don of the SAS _Hayes_ was bored. He understood his duty, but that did not make it any easier to bear. It had been many long years since the Earthers had placed this secret cache in the Sentinels' care, but Karbarra would not forget their debt or their promise... and neither would any of the other races.

_Hayes_ was a good ship, a Karbarran gun cruiser, four hundred meters long and armed with plasma weapons for close-in defense, heavy railguns and missile tubes for ship to ship combat, and a pair of superheavy mass drivers.

"Gravitational distortion detected!" called out his sensor operator, Inze. Depending on who you asked, Inze was either a Tirolian or a Praxian. Since the end of the last war, the Tirolians and Praxians -- who were genetically compatible and technically the same species -- had been making periodic attempts to integrate their societies together, but none of them really worked out. Inze was one of the many mixed breeds that resulted.

K'Don bolted to his feet. A gravitational distortion meant...

A **fold!**

"Bring all weapons online, plot an intercept course, and make best speed!"

* * *

Sheridan studied the ship in the main monitor. It was an ugly design, even by human standards. A misshapen purple cigar four hundred meters long with weapons bulging from it at regular intervals. Two large, spinal-mounted weapons could be seen protruding from the bow... which was pointed straight at them. It had obviously detected their defold operation and moved to intercept. There were no planets on the monitor, however, only an asteroid field.

"Captain, we have an incoming transmission," Lynn said. She looked up, "It's in English, sir."

"I see," Sheridan nodded. "Main speakers."

"This is Captain K'Don of the Sentinel Alliance Starship _Hayes_ to _Ark Angel_," the heavily accented voice was a low, gutteral growl. "Identify yourself and transmit authentication codes immediately. You have five minutes to comply."

"Lynn?"

"Transmitting now, Captain."

"This is Captain John Sheridan of EarthForce," he introduced himself. "Our history says that, before the Great Oath, we left ships and weapons in your care should we ever need it. Currently, we are at war with a genocidal and technologically superior race called the Minbari. We need those ships and weapons now."

There was a long pause, and K'Don replied, "Your authentication matches, Captain Sheridan. Welcome to Old Praxis. And while I cannot speak for the Advisory Council, I am confident that Karbarra, at least, will aid you in your time of need. We remember our debts, Captain."

* * *

The Sentinel Alliance Advisory Council was holding an emergency meeting.

"I believe we must help them," T'Lon said calmly, his voice gentle. He was the Karbarran representative to the Advisory Council and its current president. "That is, after all, why the Alliance still exists today, is it not?"

"Do we truly want to unleash protoculture on the universe again?" the Tirolian representative, Tyreen, asked.

The Praxian representative, Zora, pinned Tyreen with a glare, "My people will not stand by and allow the humans to suffer as we have, regardless of the Council's decision."

Tyreen held up a hand, "Peace, Zora. My blood calls out to help them as well -- it thirsts for battle -- but it is a question that must be asked."

"The Oath has already been broken," Baldan pointed out. "They will come. What happens when they do depends on what we do now." Baldan represented the longest-lived of the Sentinel species. He was a Spherian, and in fact, he had personally known many of the humans from before the Oath.

"Agreed," Kanai, the Garudan representative, nodded. "We have been expecting this. The Hin warned us."

T'Lon looked over at the last representative, "And Terak? How do you vote?"

The mysterious Perytonian merely inclined his head and said, "I believe I shall abstain."

T'Lon had expected that response. The Perytonians had become an insular people, and while they supported the Sentinel Alliance, they did not integrate themselves into mixed crews like the other races; rather, they simply stationed their own ships in the Old Praxis asteroid belt, small things that had proven to be astonishingly capable whenever space pirates tried to raid the cache.

The space pirates seemed to possess an uncanny ability to run afoul of the Perytonians.

* * *

"We don't have enough people."

Sheridan looked up, "What do you mean, we don't have enough people? We've got a hundred thousand people to crew those ships with."

"The cache includes four carrier groups and the _Pioneer_," Cmdr. Elizabeth Lochley -- his ex-wife and XO -- explained. "That's four _Tokugawa_-class carriers, eight _Valivarre_-class battleships, eight _Ikazuchi_-class super cruisers, thirty-two _Shimakaze_-class battlecruisers, and ninety-six _Garfish_-class light cruisers. Factor in the fighters, and we'd need another fourteen to fifteen thousand at an absolute minimum, with no spare personnel at all and no ground forces. We can crew them all if we start carving out our air groups or cut ourselves down to two shifts on enough ships, but that'll be hell on those crews."

Sheridan stared. "We have **that** much? How? That's more than our records show us **ever** having, at least of the larger classes."

"Apparently," she said, "a converted factory satellite was operating on automatic at minimal power using conventional fission power for a few decades after the Oath. There's still a dozen more half-finished hulls inside the thing."

"Converted factory satellite..." he mused. "Commander, can you find out if the satellite's fold drive is still functional? I mean, yes, it might need a new power source, but can it fold? If so, we'll use the fold effect to carry all the ships to Earth and get the rest of our crews there."

"I'll look into it," she said, "but that's not the only problem, sir. These ships are **old**. A lot of the systems are failing. It's going to take us a while just to get the completed ships operational again, and with _Ark Angel_'s fold drive down..."

The _Ark Angel_ was an old ship as well, and its fold drive had burned out soon after they arrived in the Old Praxis system.

"Understood," he nodded. "Focus on whichever ship we can get fold operational first, then we'll focus on the _Pioneer_ and the other big ships. We're going to need all the firepower we can get."

* * *

"The Sentinel Alliance pledges its assistance," Councillor T'Lon said. "Not just the Alliance ships, but ships from our own navies as well. We do not, however, have fold drives, as they require protoculture, so our ships will have to be carried by yours."

"We appreciate it, Councillor," Sheridan said, "but I don't think we can, in good conscience, ask you to risk angering the Minbari."

"You are not asking," T'Lon replied firmly. "We are **doing**."

"Your ancestors came to us and freed us when they had no need to do so," Kanai said, "when we, in good conscience, could not ask them to risk the wrath of the Invid. They did, and now we do."

"Besides," Zora interjected, "this very asteroid belt, in which your weapons were stored, it is... was... my people's home planet, Captain John Sheridan. Just as you cannot, in good conscience, ask us to intervene, we cannot, in good conscience, stand by and do nothing."

Sheridan swallowed hard and bowed his head, "Thank you, all of you. That means a great deal to us. More than you know."

* * *

Cmdr. Elizabeth Lochley and Capt. John Sheridan were watching as the the _Garfish_-class light cruiser was loaded. They had already landed a full load of veritech fighters and filled its on-board computers with technical data. Now, they were jamming every spare nook and cranny with protoculture cells. The matrix had been destroyed, but the cache contained a supply worth several years. Some of the technology wouldn't be immediately useful, but quite a few would be.

It had taken them two months -- two months! -- just to get one of them ready for the return to Earth space. The factory satellite's fold drive was almost a write-off; Commander Leeds estimated five years before they could get it online again.

"She's a good ship," Lochley murmured. "Fast too."

"That she is," Sheridan nodded. He smirked, "A fast ship for a fast woman."

"Well, I doubt the EA needs another minuteman right now," she shot back good-naturedly. "What are you going to call her?"

"_Hermes_," he replied. "As you said, she's fast. You'll leave as soon as she's ready."

* * *

"Godspeed, Commander," Sheridan's voice echoed through the light cruiser's bridge.

"Thank you, Captain," Lochley replied. "Hermes out."

Lt. Cmdr. Sinclair was her XO for this trip. The man was a gifted pilot, one of the best, and had headed the research into how to use the veritech fighters. The fighters alone -- with their shadow cloaking and nuclear payloads -- could make a huge difference in the war.

"Fold system is up and operational, Commander."

"Commence fold."

* * *

The Awareness stirred again.

It felt the stink of the Light-touched... the promise to the First One, the Oldest, most respected by the Progenitors... was broken. The Infant Oath Breakers had returned to using the forbidden fruit. They had broken their word. The Progenitors must know. The Eye must open.

They must have vengeance.

But first, more must be learned. But how? Who?

The answer came.

The Eye called for a human. They seemed to embody the traits the Progenitors preferred, even if they were Light-touched.

So be it.

* * *

Baldan watched the newly-christened EAS _Hermes_ initiate a fold. He knew what had happened before; he knew why the Oath had been made. He knew they would come back. Two centuries of peace was a gift from the universe, but as time passes, signs and portents show the promise of things to come. Once again, the tremor of war was about to shake the Sentinel worlds.

"Again... it begins."

* * *

Author's Postscript:

Yeah, it's a big fleet, but it's hardly going to solve all of the Earth Alliance's problems, since none of them actually **work**.


	3. Chapter 2

Title: The Thin Grey Line: Breaking the Oath (2/6) 

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Nothing worse than on the shows, except maybe language.

Spoilers: After the end of one and before the beginning of the other.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: As the Earth Alliance fights desperately to hold off the Minbari's genocidal rampage, humanity plays a desperate gamble for survival.

Author's Note: Beware the vorpal plot bunny. I would also like to thank Drake the Archr for his outstanding beta work and fact-finding for this story.

* * *

It was the twilight of the Second Age of humankind, a time of great shame for us all. 

The humans had made a desperate gamble to survive, reaching into their forbidden past to take hold of their destiny. One ship had returned, carrying within it the secrets their Oath had denied them.

A single flicker of hope, all alone in the night.

It is the Earth year 2246. The name of that ship is _Hermes_.

* * *

Captain Honor Stephanie Harrington, EarthForce Navy, was good at what she did. In another reality, crippled by vastly inferior technology, she would have been fated to become one of the many EarthForce captains who gave their lives to hold off the Minbari for just that much longer, ramming her _Nova_-class dreadnought in a suicide pact that would have destroyed two Minbari war cruisers. 

In **this** reality, however, events were slightly different.

Her ship, EAS _Nimitz_, had just returned to the front after an emergency refit, and she was senior officer of the Cyrus III Task Force, assigned to defend Cyrus III's Quantium 40 mines and the over 40,000 civilians inhabiting the planet and orbitals. Alongside _Nimitz_ was another _Nova_-class dreadnought, EAS _Abrams_; a pair of _Hyperion_-class heavy cruisers, EAS _Daedalus_ and EAS _Enterprise_; and less than a dozen support ships: Four _Artemis_-class heavy frigates and six _Olympus_-class corvettes.

Oh, and one... small... insignificant... light cruiser...

Fifteen ships against whatever the Minbari chose to throw at them.

When the jump points opened and disgorged six _Sharlin_ war cruisers, the Minbari were confident that this would be an easy victory. At the beginning of the war, forty ships had barely lasted twelve Earth seconds against twelve _Sharlins_, even after the Minbari had allowed the humans the courtesy of the first shot. Simple math dictated that this human fleet would fall even faster.

They had no idea what they were getting into.

* * *

"Mister Stromboli," Honor addressed her navigation officer, "take us out. Mister Cardones, activate the new targeting program. Mister Webster, tie us in to the fleet network." She brought up the internal comm, "Engineering, Bridge. How's the new system?" 

The new system had been a major overhaul, but it was central to their strategy for this battle. They had gutted the marine berthing for the space needed to mount the new system and replaced _Nimitz_'s four fusion reactors with a reflex furnace to power the new system as well as the refitted weapons.

"Chief Harkness says it's, and I quote, 'twitchy, but workable.'"

"Thank you, Miss Santos," Honor replied, leaning back into her command chair.

_Once more into the breach, my friends..._ she thought. She had flown with this same crew and ship throughout the Dilgar War, even taking command once when then-Captain Sarnow had been temporarily incapacitated. They had a lot of history together.

As the dreadnought nosed out of the crowd, the other ships closed formation behind her, exactly as planned. When Honor estimated that they were halfway toward the war cruisers, she said, "Mister Webster, open a communication line to the Minbari."

"Line open."

"This is Captain Honor Harrington of the Earth Alliance Starship _Nimitz_," she said. "Considering your people's actions, I'm about to make you a very generous offer: You have until I get into range to surrender or leave, or you will be destroyed." She swiped her hand, and Webster cut the transmission.

Silence swept over the bridge as the bridge officer exchanged quick, discreet looks. They knew the Skipper had a set of brass ones, but she must have traded them in for battle steel before this mission.

* * *

Aboard the lead _Sharlin_, the _Trigati_, Alyt Sineval snarled. He had never been so **insulted** in his life! Did these fools truly believe they would win? 

"Destroy them all," he ordered in a furious whisper. "We will crush them, then bombard the settlements to dust."

It was a deviation from the policy set for the war. The plan was to annihilate their military and mop up the civilian settlements later, but Sineval was furious. His honor would not allow such an insult to pass unpunished.

* * *

"Mister Cardones, do we have targets?" 

Awe was evident in the man's eyes as his tactical board showed six targets: capital size gravitational distortions. Gravitic sensors that had once served as an early warning system against incoming folds now tracked gravitic drives -- just as thermal sensors had once locked onto jet exhausts -- and that information was being piped to _Nimitz_ from what was quite possibly the most important ship in the entire EarthForce fleet.

"Yes, ma'am, we do."

"Very well," she said. "Let's be about it, then. Weapons free, Mister Cardones. Engineering, please be ready to activate the new system."

"Aye, Captain," Lt. Cardones and Cmdr. Santos chorused, despite being seperated by hundreds of meters.

* * *

When the first charged particle beams struck the _Trigati_, Alyt Sineval did not, at first, understand what had happened. By the third salvo, understanding dawned. 

This human ship had somehow overcome the _Sharlins_' stealth systems, and its weapons had been vastly improved as well.

"Return fire!" he bellowed. "Destroy them at once!"

"We are attacking, Alyt!" his first officer, Kalain reported. "Our weapons have no effect!"

"**What?**" Sineval stared at the display. The human ship's weapons had fallen silent, but the _Sharlins_' neutron beams were hitting some sort of energy barrier that surrounded the human ship in a sphere.

"Impossible!"

Yet it was happening.

* * *

"Are the fighters in position?" Honor asked. 

The fighters in question were a pair of Shadow Alphas that had hitched a ride on _Nimitz_'s hull. Since the Minbari were holding **their** fighters in reserve -- most likely intending to deploy them against the bulk of the fleet -- the two fighters, invisible to anything but the naked eye, were free to roam about while _Nimitz_ drew the Minbari's fire. The omni-directional barrier system was powerful, but it worked two ways, and after the third salvo, when the Minbari began returning fire, they had brought up the barrier and subsequently been unable to reply. This, of course, was part of the plan and why the fighters were there.

Lt. Webster spoke quietly into the comm and looked up, "Yes, ma'am. They're in position, and they've picked their targets."

"Excellent. Mister Webster, please transmit to the fleet: Execute Firestorm."

"Aye, Captain."

The other ships of the fleet responded. Hundreds of terminally-guided missiles streaked across the distance separating the EarthForce ships from the war cruisers, most from the mass-fire racks of the six _Olympus_-class corvettes.

The Minbari stealth system had two critical flaws. The first was that it did nothing to conceal their gravitic drives; though, to be fair, gravitic sensors were unheard of by most space-faring civilizations in this region of space. The second was that the ships were still visible to the naked eye; the stealth system **was** effective enough against electromagnetic radiation to foil radar and lidar... but the focused strength of a laser was a different story.

There were only two fighters, so they could only paint two targets. In the end, it was overkill. The two targeted war cruisers shattered like fine china under the storm of laser-guided missiles. The lead war cruiser, having been the sole target of _Nimitz_'s three particle beam salvos, was already limping and was damaged even further by the shrapnel from her sister ships.

That left three others mostly untouched.

"Engineering, kill the barrier," Honor said. "Mister Stromboli, all ahead full. Put us between them. Mister Webster, ship-wide, prepare for Death Roll."

"All hands, prepare for Death Roll! All hands, prepare for Death Roll!" Lt. Webster's voiced echoed throughout the ship even as she altered course and charged at the three relatively undamaged war cruisers.

"Mister Stromboli, Mister Cardones," Honor said calmly. "Engage Death Roll, all weapons."

_Nimitz_ suddenly whirled into a stomach-wrenching roll as she passed between the war cruisers, firing all her guns and raking them with particle beams at point-blank range. A few seconds later, neutron beams lanced out from the war cruisers and slashed her hull.

The main advantage of the "Death Roll" maneuver was that the enemy could not concentrate their fire to pierce the ship's armor. The Minbari weapons were powerful enough to shred even a _Nova_-class's armor with just a few hits, but the Death Roll prevented them from getting those few hits in the same place except by pure chance. Its main disadvantage, however, lay in the fact that the _Nova_-class did not have artificial gravity, and as a result, the crew was effectively incapacitated by the dizzying maneuver. During a Death Roll, the weapons relied on computer targeting... which, against the Minbari, normally amounted to random (and typically ineffective) firing. This was, in fact, how it had earned its name. When it was developed during the Dilgar War, it had been a very risky, last-resort maneuver: highly effective but just as likely to backfire. Against the Minbari, with their powerful weapons and impenetrable stealth, it was as suicidal under normal conditions as ramming and less effective to boot.

These were not normal conditions.

Audacity. Always audacity.

The Minbari Warrior Caste had been preparing for war for generations. They knew all the rules and nuances of warfare. They knew what tactics worked and what didn't between various technological levels.

But Honor Harrington had just thrown those rules out the window, and in the confusion, the Minbari didn't know how to react. In those long seconds of confused hesitation, _Nimitz_'s particle beams slashed two of the mostly undamaged war cruisers with deadly precision until, suddenly, one of them exploded.

The Minbari were a brave people, particularly the Warrior Caste. In some ways, they were also quite stupid.

In battle, however, was not one of those ways.

The rules had changed, and they needed to regroup. Two jump points opened, and the three remaining war cruisers departed the system, too far behind _Nimitz_ for them to pursue even if they hadn't been too stunned to consider it.

Silence reigned on the bridge again, until Ensign Prescott Tremaine broke it with two words.

"They ran," he said in a hushed whisper, disbelief evident in both his voice and expression. "They ran!"

Honor stared in equally growing amazement as the magnitude of what they had just accomplished dawned on her. Those had been Minbari war cruisers. A fleet that size could wipe out **twenty** EarthForce ships in a matter of seconds, and they -- one ship! -- had just waltzed up to them, plowed right through them, and shattered the attack, taking only a few hits.

She shook off her elation. "All right, people!" she said, snapping the bridge crew out of their daze. "Damage report! All sections!"

* * *

May 17th, 2246. It was a date that would be remembered. It was the date of the first battle in which the Minbari fled from the Earth Alliance. 

It would not be the last.

John Sheridan showed that the Minbari could be hurt, that they were not invincible. Honor Harrington showed that they could be driven off, that they were not infallible either. Humanity had heroes again, heroes of legend, facing unstoppable gods of destruction and death... and coming away, not just alive... but victorious.

But heroes alone do not win wars.

* * *

"I see," Shai Alyt Branmer nodded as he considered the report he had just received. "These technologies are unprecedented. That they might pierce our stealth or develop new weapons was considered, but this new shield..." he shook his head. "I must inform the Grey Council." He nodded at his communications officer, who cut the connection, then turned to his _Sharlin_'s navigator, "Take us to the _Valen'tha_." 

It was obvious the humans were being aided. Either that, or they had been holding in reserve advanced technology for no apparent reason... or they advanced technologically at a truly terrifying rate.

No, someone was helping the humans. And if someone was helping the humans, it then begged the question: Who was that someone?

The Abbai? They certainly had shield technology. Perhaps the Brakiri? Selling the technology they bought from the Abbai?

Yet even Abbai shields would not have stopped the full firepower of six _Sharlins_.

It did not seem likely that it would be the Vorlons. If the Vorlons disapproved, there was no need for them to resort to such covert machinations to stop the Minbari crusade.

And yet, the technology was not like that of the Shadows either.

So, who was it?

It was a troubling question.

* * *

"They ran?" President Elizabeth Levy repeated in disbelief. 

"Yes, Madam President," replied Admiral Alexander. "Harrington took out three war cruisers and heavily damaged two more, with only moderate casualties from the Death Roll. The other three war cruisers left, and it looks like one of the damaged ones lost its jump drive too. _Nimitz_ will be in drydock for at least a month for repairs... assuming the yard dogs ever get to her. We're transferring Harrington and her crew to one of the new _SuperNovas_, the _Nike_."

"Understood," she nodded. "How does this affect the war effort?"

"Not as much as I'd like," the admiral admitted. "Morale is skyrocketing, but _Hermes_ can only be in one place at a time, and she's the only ship with gravitic sensors. We're still having trouble duplicating them reliably, and construction of the new classes and the other refits and overhauls already have our shipyards filled beyond normal safe capacity."

"I see." She glanced at her Secretary of State, "Has this affected the official stance of the Centauri or the League?"

"Not yet, Madam President," he replied. "However, the Narns have slashed their prices. They're still gouging us, but not by anywhere near as much as they were before, and from what I've been hearing, the Centauri and the League are starting to worry about what'll happen if we actually do beat the Minbari."

The president's eyes turned to liquid nitrogen, and with a voice equally cold, she said, "They should. In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."

* * *

"We must help them, Mother." 

"No. The humans have chosen this path, and now, they must walk it."

"Is that what the Vorlons said about us, Mother? When the Children of Shadow drove us from our home?"

Silence.

"At least let me visit my nephew, Mother."

"Very well, my daughter. Go. See your nephew. Do what you will."

"Thank you, Mother."

* * *

Author's Postscript: 

Extra long chapter this time.


	4. Chapter 3

Title: The Thin Grey Line: Breaking the Oath (3/6) 

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Nothing worse than on the shows, except maybe language.

Spoilers: After the end of one and before the beginning of the other.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: As the Earth Alliance fights desperately to hold off the Minbari's genocidal rampage, humanity plays a desperate gamble for survival.

Author's Note: Beware the vorpal plot bunny. I would also like to thank Drake the Archr for his outstanding beta work and fact-finding for this story.

* * *

It was the eve of the Third Age of mankind, during the height of the Earth-Minbari War.

The hidden cache had been built for fear of the future, and for two hundred years, it lay dormant, defended by Earth's distant allies. It was our last, best hope... for survival.

One hundred and forty-nine ships, all alone in the night.

The year is 2247. The name of the place is Old Praxis.

* * *

Sheridan was a soldier, not a diplomat. That was his opinion of the matter, at least, which actually seemed to put him in good stead with several of the Sentinel Alliance's member races.

The Karbarrans were a huge mammalian species that bore a strong ursine appearance, though they moved with a grace and dignity that belied their size. He had learned they were a race of builders and explorers who channelled their aggression into ritualized sparring matches and maintained a strong element of personal honor in their culture. They saw war as a necessary evil but took great pride in that their tools of war were efficient and well-designed. After taking a tour of the SAS _Hayes_, Sheridan had to agree.

_Hayes_'s corriders were a little spacious by human standards, but it was slightly cramped for the Karbarrans. There wasn't a cubic foot of wasted space, and the ship was built in sections and layered like an onion, with the most critical systems in the interior. Each section and each layer could be sealed off in case of a hull breach.

The Tirolian Federation, on the other hand, was actually populated by the descendents of three different peoples: the human colonists who had chosen to resettle on Tirol when the Great Oath was sworn, the surviving native Tirolians themselves, and micronized remnants of the Zentraedi. The Zentraedi's warrior culture had melded with the strong military influence of those early colonies from Earth to form a major Tirolian subculture that still thrived to this day. The Tirolian ship he had toured, a four-kilometer-long dreadnought called TFS _Breetai_, had been a disconcerting experience for him for a number of reasons, including the bizarrely familiar-yet-not interior architecture.

_Breetai_ was absolutely gigantic for a warship, and the huge array of mass reactors -- which used dark matter decay to power the ship -- provided enough power to not only open a jump point large enough for a small fleet to go through... but enough to power a truly mind-boggling array of energy weapons. _Breetai_ outgunned a _Nova_-class five to one! From what he had been told during the tour, _Breetai_ was actually a converted _Nupetiet Vergnitzs_-class Zentraedi flagship, which explained the ship's enormous dimensions. Much of the interior space that had been devoted to crew had given way to the mass reactors; in order to compensate for the lower power output of the mass reactors in comparison to reflex furnaces, they had simply added more reactors. A lot more.

And then there was the Praxian Republic. **They** were certainly difficult for Sheridan to deal with. Not that they had anything against him.

On the contrary, they liked him very much. Which was the problem.

Once a peaceful, agricultural society, the Robotech Masters and Invid had changed the Praxians forever into something reminiscent of the Amazon legends of Ancient Greece. Their entire approach to warfare could be summed up in two words: Ever vigilant. They were always perparing to defend their people, training in all forms of combat, and valued martial prowess and valor very highly. Which meant that scoring the only victory against a technologically superior foe had earned Sheridan considerable credit in their eyes. That wouldn't have been a problem if it weren't for the facts that they were all female, all drop-dead gorgeous, and had some... interesting ideas on social interactions.

The Praxians' previous reliance on the "Place of Life" to reproduce had resulted in an embarrassingly (for others) sexually open society. Although the Praxians were genetically human (as were the Zentraedi and Tirolians), they did appear to have a homeobox gene that coded for a protein that permanently turned off the male determinant genes on the Y chromosome early in development. This was one of the things that made full integration with the Tirolian Federation difficult. All the offspring would be female, fully half of them XY females, with lower fertility and only a one-third chance of producing male offspring... and another one-third chance of producing more XY females. Such an uneven reproduction ratio could have a potentially disastrous impact, from a biological standpoint at least, on the gender ratios.

Where the anti-male gene came from was a mystery, but an archaeological investigation of their "Place of Life" before it (along with the planet) was destroyed proved it to be a Tirolian cloning facility, complete with resizing chambers. That suggested that the Praxians were likely descended from a group of female Zentraedi who had gotten temporally displaced and stranded on Praxis, then resized themselves to reduce their food needs. It was a theory which some suggested might apply to the Tirolians' origins, since fossil records indicated that they had certainly not evolved there.

The Spherians were an old race. Not old in the sense of having been around a long time as a species, but old in the sense of having individuals with memories that date back to the beginning of the species. Their biology -- if that was even the right word -- was difficult to comprehend, as they were an amorphous crystalline species that could shape their bodies at will, and their minds seemed to be a form of energy that simply resided in their physical bodies. According to Baldan, humans had not changed very much in the last two hundred years, and Sheridan was willing to bet that the crystalline ambassador knew what he was talking about.

The Perytonians... well, the less said about the mysterious, demonic-looking race, the better. Like most sentient species, they were humanoid. They were tall and slender, hairless, with tall heads, long horns, and eyes that seemed to glow in low light. The cloaks and staves added further to the eerie impression. Terak had only said, "We will be there." When Sheridan had pressed and asked when, Terak had simply smiled and replied, "When you need us."

The Garudans were just as disturbing as the Perytonians in their own way. They were a lithe, catlike or foxlike humanoid species with a coat of long hair all over their bodies, and the atmosphere they breathed was slightly different from the nitrogen-oxygen mix most species were comfortable with. What bothered Sheridan, however, was that their entire species was telepathic. Like most mundanes in the Earth Alliance, Sheridan never was entirely comfortable with telepaths. However, he had gotten to know the telepath assigned to this mission, Richard Belmont, which had eased his feelings and made dealing with the Garudans much easier. It helped that their mysticism couched their telepathic powers in more comfortable trappings.

Right now, though, he was puzzling over one of the other things found in the cache. It was a bank of computers that had been salvaged from the wreckage of the SDF-1. According to the inventory list -- thank God their ancestors thought to include one! -- these were computers that the old Robotech Research Group had never been able to crack. There were a few they had never even been able to activate.

Sheridan looked at one in particular. From what the RRG had been able to decipher, it was locked by genetic access. With a shrug, Sheridan stuck his finger in the scanner. It couldn't hurt.

The computer suddenly hummed to life, and the monitor lit up, startling him as a video recording began to play.

"Hello, old friend."

* * *

Rhakishi was a pirate. He was not a Tirolian like most pirates in this sector were. The Spherians had little need for material goods, the Karbarrans were too easygoing for the most part, the Praxians had their honor code, the Garudans' telepathic abilities made them a very communal people, and the Perytonians... well, no one knew what the story was with the Perytonians.

Rhakishi himself was a Garudan. He had known he was different from his people from an early age. Had a biopsy been done, it would have revealed a chemical imbalance in his brain that altered his mental perceptions.

They were using a converted relic of the past, the hulk of an old Zentraedi scout ship, one of dozens that still roamed the space lanes. Due to the size of the original crew and pilots, Zentraedi vessels and mecha were the easiest to convert to less efficient power systems, as they had plenty of room to spare. The fighters aboard were a mix of converted Gnerl fighter pods and a hodgepodge of modern fighters. They had only a handful of precious mecha, which they kept out of the fighting and used to pick the wreckage of any victims they had been forced to blow apart.

Rhakishi himself flew a Karbarran Kathari fighter. The Kathari was nimble and fast in a way that its intended pilots weren't. It was a lightly armed transatmospheric fighter, with a pair of plasma bolters mounted at the ends of its wings.

Their captain, Jak Carlson, had heard of new activity at Old Praxis. Many ships were coming and going, and Jak had convinced most of the crew that the prize was worth the risk, something about having an inside man. Rhakishi had his doubts, but he would go along. At the very least, it would allow him a chance to taste the sweet flavor of fear again.

* * *

Sheridan had found the message to be both enlightening and a little troubling. Right now, he was in his quarters aboard _Ark Angel_.

"Captain Sheridan!" came a shout, accompanied by a pounding on his door.

Sheridan rose and opened the door. It was the mission telepath, Richard Belmont, a slender man with reddish-brown eyes and unruly greenish-blond hair. "What is it, Rick?"

"We've got incoming," the telepath said breathlessly. "Raiders."

Sheridan nodded, and just as he reached for his uniform shirt, his personal comm terminal flared to life.

"Captain, we have a jump point forming."

Sheridan glanced at Belmont, then activated the comm terminal and said, "On my way." He shot Belmont an arched eyebrow, "Just how strong a telepath are you, Belmont?"

"Officially?" Belmont shrugged. "P8."

"And... unofficially?" Sheridan asked as he buttoned up his uniform shirt.

"Don't really know, and I'm not about to let Psi Corps find out," Belmont replied, then grinned. "Otherwise, it wouldn't be unofficial anymore, would it?"

"Fair enough."

* * *

"Jump point forming! Emerging... Zentraedi scout ship, _Tou Redir_-class."

"What?" Cmdr. Zeraan James, Tirolian Spacy, captain of the SAS _Taylor_, rose to his feet. "Challenge them."

"No response."

"They're approaching at attack speed, Captain."

"Pirates," he scowled. "Power up weapons and move to intercept. Have all mecha ready to launch."

"Aye, Captain," chorused his navigation, flight control, and tactical officers.

He glanced at the tactical display and noted where the other ships of the picket flotilla were; none of them were in position to intercept before _Taylor_, not even the Perytonian ship, which was on the far side of the patrol zone. There was nothing particularly unusual about the Perytonian's positioning... except that this was the first time in the two hundred years since the Oath that pirates had arrived from any vector that did **not** put the Perytonian picket ship directly in their path.

At three hundred meters, Taylor was a Tirolian _Sian Diel_-class heavy frigate, designed specifically for anti-piracy operations. The problem was that the _Sian Diel_-class was really designed for escorting civilian convoys, not defending fixed positions, which meant it lacked combat endurance, relying on its heavy missile batteries to deter pirates while the convoy fled for safety. On top of that, even heavily armed pirates typically still used modern civilian ships converted for combat, not warships from the protoculture days converted to use modern technology... and a Zentraedi scout ship was big enough to count as a destroyer or even a light cruiser by current ship standards, albeit one lacking heavy enough weapons to threaten larger warships. Which _Taylor_ was not.

Zeraan knew his ship and crew would not be able to stop the pirates. They could hurt them. Badly. But they could not stop them.

That didn't mean they weren't going to try.

* * *

Citar was a Perytonian. It was his ship that was assigned to the picket line. He had detected the pirates coming, but he had a more pressing concern to deal with.

It was a probe, one with a limited degree of intelligence.

"They have broken the Oath!" it "shrieked." It wasn't using any spoken or even telepathic form of communication. Nonetheless, Citar "heard" it and replied in the same manner.

"They shall be dealt with," he "said" soothingly. "It is an isolated incident. The Oath shall be upheld. We will see to it."

"You are certain?"

"Yes," he "said" firmly.

A wave of uncertainty rippled from the probe.

"We are still loyal," he assured it.

After a long, tense moment, it responded.

"The Awareness shall be informed."

Citar slumped in his chair in relief as he felt it fade away.

* * *

Sheridan watched the tactical display as SAS _Taylor_ engaged the raiders. The heavy frigate was putting up a good fight, but they weren't going to survive long enough for the rest of the picket fleet to arrive.

"Multiple jump points forming!"

"**More** raiders?" Sheridan sputtered in surprise.

"The new ships are broadcasting..." Specialist Lynn said, then looked up in surprise. "It's the Karbarran Navy, sir. They're demanding the pirates surrender."

Sheridan relaxed, "Well, that was interesting. I take it that's the strike force Councillor T'Lon promised us?"

"Yes, sir, it is."

"Great," Sheridan leaned back. "Now if we can just get these fold drives working, we'll be in business."

* * *

Author's Postscript:

As you can see, I am reimagining the Sentinel races somewhat. I apologize if all the science in the Praxian description was excessive, but that was a genetic peculiarity I just **had** to address.


	5. Chapter 4

Title: The Thin Grey Line: Breaking the Oath (4/6) 

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Nothing worse than on the shows, except maybe language.

Spoilers: After the end of one and before the beginning of the other.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: As the Earth Alliance fights desperately to hold off the Minbari's genocidal rampage, humanity plays a desperate gamble for survival.

Author's Note: Beware the vorpal plot bunny. I would also like to thank Drake the Archr for his outstanding beta work and fact-finding for this story.

* * *

It was the eve of the Third Age of mankind. It was a year of fateful choices, the year the Great Alliance came before us all.

The humans had managed to blunt the Minbari's once seemingly unstoppable advance, around a single world that came to symbolize the entire war. The galaxy held its collective breath... and waited.

One otherwise insignificant planet, all alone in the night.

It is the Earth year 2247. The name of the place is Cyrus III.

* * *

"Hello, old friend," Captain Honor Harrington said, extending a hand. "Welcome to Cyrus III, Captain Sisko. The admiral sends his regards."

"Thank you, Honor," Captain Benjamin Sisko replied.

"It's good to see _Nimitz_ back here," Honor said, turning her gaze out the viewport to where the refitted dreadnought hung in space.

"Came straight from the yard dogs as soon as the repairs were finished," he said. He followed her gaze and nodded. "She's a good ship," he murmured.

"That she is," Honor agreed. "Take care of her, Ben. She holds a lot of memories, for me and the admiral both."

"I know," he nodded. "I'll do my best."

* * *

"I must say again that I do not believe it is the work of the Shadows," Shai Alyt Branmer said calmly. "The technology is nothing like what the legends speak of, and surely, the Vorlons would have warned us if another Shadow War was upon us."

He had been making this argument for many months. It was futile, he knew, but he had to at least try.

"And **I** believe that you are mistaken, Shai Alyt," Alyt Sineval said. He didn't -- quite -- sneer.

"Alyt Sineval speaks truly," Satai Rienn of the Warrior Caste interjected before Branmer could react. "We have not had contact with the Vorlons in many years. We would do better to assume it **is** and prepare falsely than to assume it is **not **and be caught unawares. You yourself have said that the humans are receiving aid, and who else **but** the Shadows could provide technology to rival that of the Vorlons' chosen? We **must** send the full weight of our warriors against the humans and crush them **now**! **Before** their masters reveal themselves!"

Alyt Neroon frowned. He was the Shai Alyt's second in command, and he understood Branmer's skepticism. He himself had reviewed the data, and none of it suggested that the Shadows had had a hand in the humans' upgrades. All the new technology the humans were using... the aesthetics of it were just as distinctly utilitarian, ugly, and **human** as what they had started the war with.

In fact, Neroon doubted Sineval or Rienn genuinely believed the humans were aided by the Shadows either. There were few, if any, of the Warrior Caste who believed the Shadows would **ever** truly return. Sineval wanted revenge; he had been humiliated at Cyrus III, the first Minbari Alyt to ever retreat from the humans without even destroying a single human ship. Satai Rienn, on the other hand, almost seemed to revel in the bloodshed. Neroon knew not why, but there was no denying the delight she had taken in their crushing advance in the early part of the war.

Branmer knew this too. Moreover, he was almost certain he knew exactly what Sineval would suggest. The humans had built up a mighty fleet at Cyrus III, increasing their military presence and fortifications there after each of the four previous attacks: Sineval's first two disastrous attacks, another attack led by Alyt Shakiri who had hoped to reap the glory, and a reconnaissance in force that Branmer had sent Neroon on. Sineval would almost certainly recommend smashing the concentration of forces with an equally mighty fleet, crippling the humans with a single stroke and incidentally redeeming Sineval -- who, of course, would lead the attack due to his previous experience with and intimate knowledge of the defenses there -- of the perceived shame of being defeated there twice.

Such a folly stemmed more from courage, pride, and wishful thinking than from practical sense, and perhaps Branmer's origins in the Religious Caste allowed him to see things his fellows of the Warrior Caste were blind to.

It had become quite obvious to him that their victories before Cyrus III had stemmed not from a greater will or superior tactics and strategies. The humans had proven that they at least matched the Minbari's will, fighting like a cornered beast, doomed... but determined to make the Minbari bleed for their victory. The humans had also proven their cunning, first when they destroyed _Drala Fi_, then at Cyrus III. No, it had become obvious to Branmer that the Minbari's advantages over the humans had been pure hardware -- their until-now impenetrable stealth and the superior range and destructive power of their weapons -- both of which the humans had now learned to counter or match.

From a strategic standpoint, it would be better to bypass Cyrus III entirely and strike at Sinzar and go from there through Proxima to Earth itself. The fleet at Cyrus III would have to then choose between leaving the settlements there unprotected, splitting and weakening their forces, or simply standing by and allowing the Minbari to take the fight to their very homeworld.

Branmer knew this, but he would not say it. It would do no good, for the rest of the Warrior Caste would simply dismiss it as cowardice, declare him unfit to lead the Minbari in war, and promote someone else -- someone thick-headed enough to actually think that attacking that fleet was a good idea -- to Shai Alyt.

"I say," Sineval declared, "we should take the bulk of our forces and smash the human fleet at Cyrus III! They have concentrated their forces there, and with a single stroke, we can win this war and then wipe the humans out at our leisure!"

Almost word for word. Branmer suppressed a resigned sigh. He was hardly infallible, but he wished his read on Sineval had been less accurate.

"I agree," Satai Rienn said. "It is time we remind these humans just who they are dealing with."

* * *

"No other race has ever been able to stand up to the Minbari!" G'Kar declared. "Not even the Centauri! This is our chance! If we aid the humans now, then we can secure their help and finally avenge ourselves on the Centauri! Why can't you see that?"

"We have too few ships," Councillor Kha'Mak of the Second Circle of the Kha'Ri argued. "If we attack the Minbari, their counterattack will surely destroy us, and even if they do not attack us, the Centauri no doubt **will**."

"If we help them now, they will help us later," G'Kar insisted. "We are the only ones who-"

"If we help them now, we may not **have** a later!" Kha'Mak retorted.

"The Minbari will not attack us, not yet," G'Kar shook his head. "It is a holy war for them. They will not stop until either every human is dead or every Minbari is."

"So you would have us engage in genocide?"

"That is not what I meant!"

"Even **if** the humans can defeat the Minbari, even **if** the Minbari would choose not attack us, and even **if** we could convince the rest of the Kha'Ri to go along with this, just **where** do you propose we get the ships, G'Kar?" Kha'Mak demanded. "Our borders are barely secure. The Centauri would pounce on us in our moment of weakness, and within a generation, freedom would be nothing more than a memory for Narn!"

"I see," G'Kar bowed his head. "You are right. Very well. I shall speak no more of it."

* * *

Emperor Turhan of the Centauri Republic placed the report on the desk before him and leaned back in his seat, considering its contents. It was not the grand throne he used to receive visitors or for formal occasions; that ostentatious piece of furniture remained in the opulent, cold, and drafty throne room. Rather, it was an old, well-worn chair that was far more comfortable than the throne.

The humans were doomed. Anyone who had seen the opening massacres of the Earth-Minbari War could see that and know it in their hearts. They refused to give up, though, fighting valiantly with even greater strength, holding out for months where any other race would have given in to despair and folded within weeks. He knew that, even among his cynical people, there were those who wept for the humans. There were even a few impetuous young nobles -- armored with the ever-present youthful sense of invulnerability -- who had petitioned their houses to aid the humans in their hopeless gesture of defiance. But the humans were still doomed.

Then the news of _Drala Fi_'s destruction came. The Minbari flagship had outrun the rest of its fleet to perform lightning raids on the humans' very home system, only to suddenly be destroyed. For a long moment, the galaxy held its breath. Details had not been forthcoming, but it had looked like it might be a turning point in the war... but no, the Minbari continued their slaughter of the humans unchecked and with even greater fury.

Until they went to Cyrus III. The humans had driven off the Minbari. The galaxy had written it off as another fluke, an accident of Minbari overconfidence, human underhandedness, and sheer luck, much like the destruction of _Drala Fi_.

Then the humans did it again.

Coincidence, of course. The Minbari must have gotten predictable and walked into another trap.

And again.

That was when the Centauri began to take notice. The report Emperor Turhan had been reading had been of the Minbari's **fourth** failed attack on the planet, though it had not appeared to be a serious attempt... and he began to wonder.

If the humans could defeat the Minbari, then they could be a valuable ally. Their actions in the Dilgar War showed that their expansionistic goals were limited to uninhabited planets. If the Centauri Republic threw themselves in with the humans, and the humans were victorious...

He dismissed the idea. No. It would be better to risk missing an opportunity by standing on the sidelines than to gamble everything by taking sides. He set the report aside.

"Turhan?"

Only one person would have both the right and the nerve to call the Emperor of the Centauri Republic by name, and he smiled to greet her, "Morella. How are you, dear?"

"I am well, husband."

It was, like most (if not all) Centauri weddings, a political marriage, but they had learned to develop some affection for each other. Of course, entirely aside from her family's connections, Turhan had married her for her gifts.

Her gifts.

"Tell me, Morella," he said. "What do you see of the humans?"

She closed her eyes.

"I see... paths to the future. Where once there were two, there are now three. Light and dark and grey. The two are old, well-worn paths... but the humans... they will blaze the third... and all the galaxy shall follow."

* * *

It was with a heavy heart that Shai Alyt Branmer surveyed the fleet assembled before him. It was truly a mighty fleet, with over five hundred _Sharlin_ war cruisers and nearly twice as many _Tinashi_ war frigates. More than that were the twelve _Shargoti_ heavy battlecruisers. The _Shargoti_ was a new design, with superior armor and a greater weapons loadout than the _Sharlin_; with the technology the humans had displayed at Cyrus III, they had been rushed into production. It was the largest single fleet assembled by the Minbari since the Great War. True, the Minbari Federation still had more warships, but most of the other ships were required right where they were. Some were guarding the systems claimed by the Minbari or under Minbari protection, stripped of their support fleets of _Tinashis_, while others were held by the Anla'shok, who claimed to have none to spare.

The only other ships that could be spared had another mission, and Branmer silently prayed for Neroon. It was a mission he refused to trust to any other, and it had taken a great deal of finesse to convince the leaders of the Warrior Caste to support it.

Alyt Sineval's _Trigati_ was, of course, part of the fleet's lead element. He had tried, unsuccessfully, to take command of the entire operation, but Branmer had brooked no argument. A fleet this size demanded a Shai Alyt's personal attention, and he had no intention of delegating command to someone so blinded by personal outrage.

But then, he supposed, the very fact that they were fighting this war spoke loudly of how much the Minbari people as a whole could be blinded by outrage.

"It is time," Branmer said. He glanced at his communications officer and said, "Tell Alyt Sineval that he is to begin leading the first element out."

* * *

The bar was called the Jump Point. Since the military build-up here at Cyrus III began, it had become the most popular bar among EarthForce personnel, particularly the gropos. The lighting and music was just right for a soldier to unwind after a day of absolutely boring and pointless drills and patrols on a planet that would probably get hit by orbital bombardment if the Minbari ever broke through the fleet anyway.

"I still think it's a dumb move," declared PFC Allen Tetsumoto. "Not saying I don't like it, but... we've got a third of the fleet over our heads. This place is better defended than Earth."

PFC Michael Garibaldi shrugged, "Way I hear it, intel's got them figured out: They're a bunch of fanatical whackos on a crusade."

"So?"

"**So**," Garibaldi said, "what's a fanatical nutjob on a mission from God gonna do when someone thwarts him?"

"Try again," Tetsumoto nodded slowly as understanding took hold. "They're going to keep coming until they either take this place or can't fight anymore."

"Exactly," Garibaldi said, resisting the urge to take a long pull from his beer. "So we draw a line, right here. This far, no further."

Tetsumoto chuckled and held up his drink, "At least until we kick their bonehead asses all the way back to Minbar!"

"Hear hear," Garibaldi said, clinking his drink against Tetsumoto's.

"Hear hear!" the rest of the bar's patrons echoed him, lifting their drinks in kind.

_As long as we can hold it,_ Garibaldi silently corrected Tetsumoto, _and as long as the boys upstairs can keep the boneheads at bay. God, I know you watch after fools and madmen. Well, just take a look at us, risking everything for everyone. Don't get much more foolish or crazier than that._

* * *

Captain John Harriman of the _Hyperion_-class heavy cruiser EAS _Enterprise_ sat in his ship's command chair. _Enterprise_ had gone back to Earth for a major refit after the second wave of reinforcements arrived after the Second Battle of Cyrus III. They had missed Third Cyrus during the refit, but after they returned, they had acquitted themselves well in Fourth Cyrus. _Enterprise_ had undergone the standard _Hyperion_-class refit established after _Hermes_'s return, which added a magnetic lens and a particle beam option to the forward heavy lasers and did away with the rest of the wide variety of energy weapons in favor of an all particle beam armament (excepting the new combination cannon) which incorporated the superior refinements brought back by _Hermes_. In addition, she had also had had her fusion reactors replaced by a reflex furnace, which allowed for a pinpoint barrier system.

The reflex furnaces were one of the simpler pieces of technology to duplicate, but the limited supply of protoculture cells -- only what _Hermes_ had brought back in her holds in the few runs she'd made between Earth Alliance space and the Pegasus galaxy -- meant that EarthForce wasn't going to be converting all their ships to reflex furnaces any time soon.

_Enterprise_ was currently running picket duty, halfway between Cyrus III and the likely jump zone. The last Minbari attack had been more like a measured probe to test their defenses than a reckless assault like the previous three, so although _Hermes_ had those wonderful gravitic sensors, Vice Admiral Sarnow wasn't about to rely solely on them with an organized and well-planned Minbari attack on the horizon.

"Multiple jump points forming, sir, scattered all over the jump zone. No IFF."

"The Minbari. So they're finally here," Harriman noted. "How many?"

His sensor operator stared at her monitor and didn't respond.

"**How many**, Lieutenant?"

She looked up at him, "All of them, sir."

"What?"

"There's hundreds of jump points, sir. Our sensors can't track them all."

"My God."

The Fifth Battle of Cyrus III was about to begin.

* * *

Author's Postscript:

Next chapter, big battle time!


	6. Chapter 5

Title: The Thin Grey Line: Breaking the Oath (5/6) 

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Nothing worse than on the shows, except maybe language.

Spoilers: After the end of one and before the beginning of the other.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: As the Earth Alliance fights desperately to hold off the Minbari's genocidal rampage, humanity plays a desperate gamble for survival.

Author's Note: Beware the vorpal plot bunny. I would also like to thank Drake the Archr for his outstanding beta work and fact-finding for this story.

* * *

It was the eve of the Third Age of mankind, at the end of the Earth-Minbari War, when we faced the largest fleet assembled in centuries.

The analysts say they attacked where they did out of pride. We may never know for sure. For a fifth time, they tried to take the planet that had come to symbolize the war.

One single planet, all alone in the night.

It is the year 2247. The name of the place is Cyrus III.

* * *

"So, how's the fold drive look, Doctor Nichols?"

Dr. Carmen Nichols was a civilian technician by trade -- and a very good one, judging from her personnel jacket -- but what had guaranteed her a spot on the Pegasus mission was actually her hobby, as she was an avid follower of archaeology and xenoarchaeology. She normally worked for Interplanetary Expeditions, better known as IPX, and had a talent for reverse-engineering unfamiliar technologies. She had since become the Pegasus mission's unofficial senior fold technician.

"It's operational..." she replied, "...mostly."

"'Mostly'?" Sheridan blinked. "Define 'mostly.'"

"It'll work," she assured him, "but we had to take a few shortcuts. It'll need to cool down, so to speak. About a day, give or take a couple of hours, between folds. Any faster, and... well, the fold **should** still work, but we'll fry it in the process."

"All right," Sheridan nodded. "Good work. How many ships can we bring?"

"Not nearly as many as showed up," she snorted. "I'm projecting a fold bubble only about two miles across. Like I said, we had to take shortcuts."

"Good enough," he nodded.

He turned and walked away. He had another appointment to make.

Most of the raiders that had tried to attack a couple of months ago had surrendered, and that had granted them a certain amount of leniency, exempting them from capital punishment. One of them, however, had not surrendered, howling incoherently as he continued to strafe _Taylor_. A stray hit had disabled the stolen Karbarran fighter and left the pilot, a psychotic Garudan named Rhakishi, alive.

The Sentinel Alliance Advisory Council -- on which Sheridan unexpectedly found himself holding a temporary seat, representing the Earth Alliance -- had voted against turning him over to the Garuden Hegemony for trial. It had been a secret vote, but Sheridan had voted for turning him over; the last thing he wanted was to have a trial delaying his return to Earth space.

The trial, it turned out, had been pretty much open and shut. The raider captain's testimony indicated that the target was the cache, officially Earth Alliance property, which gave EA laws precedence for sentencing, which meant Death of Personality.

Sheridan, however, was legally required to officially witness the execution, which is where he was heading right now. He approached the chamber where it would occur. Rhakishi would be mind-wiped by a Tirolian mind probe; it was a more advanced version of the clone-tutors once used in Zentraedi cloning tanks. The equivalent device the EA used for mindwipes had been developed independently, but the Tirolian mind probe's superior versatility had staggering implications, some good... but mostly not.

* * *

The other members of the Council nodded in greeting as Sheridan arrived, and T'Lon gestured for him to stand near the front of the viewing room.

"Do you have any last requests?" Kanai asked.

Rhakishi ignored him, his gaze turning and locking onto Sheridan, despite the one-way mirror. "They are coming for you, human," he laughed. "They are coming for you!"

"Sedate him," Kanai ordered the nurse.

Rhakishi settled under the sedative, his breathing slowing to an even pace as the biotechnician flipped the switch, wiping Rhakishi's mind.

* * *

"You're staying?" Sheridan frowned. "Why?"

"Because..." Belmont replied hesitantly, "...I think I've got a line on a way to get the rest of the fleet to Earth space instead of just ferrying them back in _Pioneer_'s fold bubble over several trips." He held up a hand, "Don't... ask, okay, John? It's complicated, and you're launching in just a couple of hours."

"All right, Rick," Sheridan nodded. "I guess I'll be seeing you Earth side."

* * *

The battle had started off well, with synchronized, time on target alpha strikes punching gaping holes in the Minbari lines at ranges greater than that which the Minbari could effectively respond. Vice Admiral Sarnow had held the fleet's missiles in reserve until the Minbari closed the range; it was a risky gambit, but against Minbari stealth and point defense, it had proven far more effective than the traditional long-range missile duels they had been built for. Although EarthForce had found a hole in Minbari stealth, they could not tie the missiles into that network, rendering their guidance systems ineffective, even if the Minbari's EM output didn't burn out their electronics. Sarnow's decision to use them at close range in a single massive volley had overwhelmed the Minbari's point defenses and ripped the Minbari's remaining vanguard to shreds. The close range had reduced the effectiveness of both Minbari stealth and point defenses. It also forced the Minbari to quickly switch their weapons to point defense tasks, giving the fleet some breathing room right when they needed it, since the Minbari, like most civilizations and definitely **un**like the EA, did not have dedicated point defense guns.

However, the Minbari outnumbered the Cyrus III Task Force three to one, and the battle was beginning to grow desperate. Earth Alliance fighters -- mostly starfuries retrofitted with shadow cloaks, though there were a few shadow veritechs and a rapidly dwindling number of standard starfuries in the mix too -- dueled with Minbari fighters, both sides forced to rely on visual targeting.

With _Hermes_'s gravitic sensors tied into the fleet tactical net and a select few capital ships that been retrofitted with the large-scale shadow cloaks, the Earth Alliance had a technological edge, but they had all their eggs in one basket, and many of their ships hadn't been refitted at all.

Benjamin Sisko gripped his armrest as another fusion blast struck _Nimitz_. He glanced at his status display. _Nimitz_ was hurt, badly. They'd lost the starboard half of their forward batteries, along with primary fire control on their port broadside, and a quarter of the ship was depressurized. And that last blast had just taken out their port broadside's **secondary** fire control.

"That's it!" he snarled as the ship shuddered again. "Raise barrier system! Helm, full speed ahead! We're going to ram them with the barrier."

* * *

"_Nimitz_ is breaking formation."

Vice Admiral Mark Sarnow bolted to his feet. He was aboard the _SuperNova_-class dreadnought EAS _Nike_. While the _SuperNova_ may have been built on the same frame as the _Nova_-class, it incorporated something that even the _Nova_ refits couldn't include, due to the sheer amount of integration required: artificial gravity. That, incidentally, included inertial compensators, which allowed the ship designers to include more powerful oversized propulsion systems, which paradoxically made the _SuperNova_ not only the biggest and meanest ship class in EarthForce, but also the fastest and most agile, short of a fighter.

"What? Ben? What's he doing?" Sarnow demanded.

"He's... ramming them, sir. Barrier up."

Sarnow remembered the briefings on the barrier technology. He had seen the old footage from the first two times the barrier had been used in combat by Earth forces, aboard the SDF-1 -- they never **did** get around to naming that ship; the Zentraedi attack had interrupted the christening ceremony, and by the time they had a chance to name her, she was officially decommissioned -- and both of those times, the barrier had overloaded. That same tendency had been used by the UEEF on a few rare occasions to their advantage, both in the Sentinels War and the Haydonite War, but they weren't as well-documented as what had happened in the Ontario Quadrant or the Zentraedi mobile command fortress.

"Order all ships and fighters to pull away from _Nimitz_," he said. "They are to restrict themselves to long-range support for _Nimitz_ only."

* * *

Shai Alyt Branmer of the Star Riders clan watched as the human ship charged the thickest of their formation. For a moment, he wondered what the humans aboard that ship hoped to do, for they had already crippled its weapons, and it had become evident early in the battle that the humans' shield technology prevented them from firing.

His question was answered when the human ship rammed the _Alati_. The energy shield shattered the _Sharlin_, which vanished in a fiery explosion as its quantum singularity core was breached... and the human ship kept on coming.

"_Rakari_ group, concentrate fire on that ship," he ordered. The _Rakari_ was one of the new _Shargoti_ heavy battlecruisers. He had to hope the shield could be overloaded, or else it would ram its way through the fleet.

He had no idea just how bad an idea that was.

* * *

"Mister Paris," Sisko addressed his helmsman, "find me another target, and keep us moving deeper into the enemy formation. I want as many of them as possible between us and our lines."

"You got it, sir," Lt. Thomas Paris nodded as he vectored _Nimitz_ toward a tight cluster of war cruisers led by one of the new big ships.

* * *

Alyt Sineval was infuriated. These humans simply refused to lie down and die, and now, they mocked him with such insulting defenses. The ship he was facing was, in fact, EAS _Kratos_, a _SuperNova_-class dreadnought. The omni-directional barrier system's limited flexibility had been amply demonstrated at First Cyrus, when EAS _Nimitz_ had been unable to do more than serve as a decoy after raising her barrier. Later refits and all _SuperNovas_ included the pinpoint barrier system in order to correct this oversight, and _Kratos_ was equipped with the latest version of the control software, which tied the pinpoint barrier control into her interceptor grid and granted the computer selective activation of the E-Web. This gave the pinpoint barrier a much lower error rate than the manual control once used in pre-Oath ships and maximized efficiency.

Which meant, essentially, that the Minbari's shots had to overcome four interlocking layers of defense: First, they had to run the gauntlet of the interceptor grid, which could literally shoot them out of space; second, they had to avoid the roving energy discs of the pinpoint barrier system, which were always moving synergistically to stop what the interceptor grid could not; third, if the interceptor control computer calculated that the attack would bypass the interceptor bolts and pinpoint barriers, it flash-activated the E-Web in the target area, dispersing the attack over a wide area; and fourth, they had to penetrate _Kratos_'s thick armor... which, in turn, consisted of several layers of varying materials, including a thick external layer of an ablative coating once used on pre-Oath mecha and ships.

This coating, applied like a clear paint in thousands of microthin layers over the ship's hull, was not designed to resist damage. Instead, it easily flaked off and vaporized in layers... and took a great deal of the attack's energy with them, leaving the underlying multi-layered matrix of hard armor virtually untouched by fusion blasts and lessening the effect of the first few seconds of even the powerful neutron beams. It degraded quickly and took a great deal of time and effort to apply, but it increased the ship's combat survivability dramatically.

Needless to say, effective shots were few and far between, which led to Sineval's current emotional state as he pondered how to destroy the human ship that opposed him.

* * *

"Admiral, transmission from _Hermes_."

Sarnow nodded and accepted the transmission, "Commander Lochley, what is it?"

"We're losing, Admiral," she said bluntly. "We're putting up a good fight, but they're going to be able to overrun us with numbers alone. Request permission to take _Hermes_ out and engage with the synchro cannon."

"Permission denied," Sarnow said, shaking his head. "Ben's out there with a barrier about to overload, and I don't want to risk losing the grav sensors. _Hermes_ stays right where she is, Commander."

"Understood, sir."

* * *

"Captain, Engineering," Cmdr. Brian Cowen's Irish-accented voice came across _Nimitz_'s intraship comm.

"How's the barrier system holding up, Commander?" Sisko asked.

"Not good, Captain," Cowen replied "I figure, another ten minutes of this, and she'll overload. I'm evacuating the immediate area."

"Understood, Commander."

Sisko turned his attention back to the battle as they approached the big battlecruiser. The Minbari ship poured energy into _Nimitz_'s barrier, and just before they rammed the ship... the barrier overloaded.

* * *

Branmer watched in fascinated horror as the human ship appeared to explode, engulfing the _Rakari_, three _Sharlins_, and several _Tinashis_ in an expanding sphere of fiery destruction. Stunned amazement and a small dose of fear was added when the gigantic ball of energy faded... and revealed the Earth ship, apparently unharmed.

Movement from the corner of his eye in the virtual display caught his attention, and he turned his gaze to another ship. It was a unique design, with a spinal-mounted laser that had been stabbing through the fleet with lethal accuracy throughout the battle, but they had been unable to attack it effectively, as its screening elements had proven quite stubborn, and it had those strange, small, mobile energy shields protecting it.

It was now charging for its sister ship, with its energy shields focused on its bow. What was it doing?

* * *

"Sisko to Engineering, damage report."

"Sir," Cowen replied, "you really don't want to know."

"Can we get the barrier back?"

"Got some duct tape?" Cowen quipped. "Let me just say this, sir: The compartment the shield generator was in has expanded to about ten percent over its original size, with lots of paint burning on the **outside** of the compartment. I have it vented to space to try to choke the fires, but until we get into drydock, we're not getting the barrier online. If the jump drive still works, I'd be quite surprised."

A slightly maniacal look crept into Sisko's eyes as an idea gelled in his mind.

* * *

Vice Admiral Sarnow and Capt. Sisko were not the only ones to study the old pre-Oath records. Capt. Marylin Grant of the EAS _Cyclops_ had been studying them as well.

_Cyclops_ was built on a _Nova_-class frame. It was equipped with an extremely powerful spinal-mounted laser cannon that had been salvaged during the Dilgar War. No one was sure exactly where it came from, and few were willing to ask, though the Hyach markings found on it made some conclusions inevitable.

Before _Hermes_ had returned, _Cyclops_ had been pretty much a failure, as there were severe problems with the cooling system, but the data brought back by the _Garfish_ had corrected that, along with providing a few other upgrades. During the battle, _Cyclops_ had been sniping at the Minbari to lethal effect from behind her screen, but with _Nimitz_ now trapped and probably helpless in the center of the formation, Grant decided to pull another maneuver out of the history books.

Right now, she was working on her own variation of the Daedalus Maneuver used in the First Robotech War. By focusing the pinpoint barriers to the bow of the ship, she made a nearly impenetrable and indestructable ram. By leaving an opening in the barrier, she was able to fire the spinal-mount laser into her targets, spearing them, weakening them, and crashing through anything that got between her ship and _Nimitz_.

* * *

"No good, Captain," Cowen shook his head. "Jump drive's live, but we don't have enough power yet to open a jump point."

"Damn," Sisko frowned. "What's _Cyclops_'s ETA?"

"Ten minutes, Captain."

Sisko slumped his shoulders, "Let's hope we live that long."

* * *

Lochley's gaze bore down on the fold technician.

"Are you **sure** you've got the calculations, right?"

"Yes, ma'am!" the technician stammered nervously.

"All right, then," she said. "Helm, take us out. Engineering, prepare for fold."

* * *

Sarnow frowned at the tactical display. Now _**Hermes**_ was breaking formation.

"Get me _Hermes_," he ordered.

"_Hermes_ here."

"Lochley, what are you up to?" he glowered.

"Watch and see, Admiral," she replied. Her next words were muffled, as though she were speaking to someone else, but Sarnow heard them clearly enough. "Commence fold."

"No!" Sarnow half-rose and slammed his fist into his armrest as the transmission died.

* * *

A fold drive was nothing like a jump drive. Jump drives functioned by opening a gateway into hyperspace, which allowed a ship to travel from normal space to hyperspace and back, using hyperspace as a shortcut to wherever they were going. A fold drive, on the other hand, literally folded space until the departure point and the destination were one and the same, exchanging one sphere of matter for another... something that Cmdr. Elizabeth Lochley was taking advantage of.

_Hermes_'s fold drives engaged, folding the ship to _Nimitz_'s exact position, whisking the crippled dreadnought to the dubious safety of Cyrus III's orbit, behind EarthForce's fleet.

"Open fire, all weapons," Lochley ordered. "Target that big ship and ready the synchro cannon!"

Hermes was a _Garfish_-class light cruiser, synchro refit, and she was armed with her forward ventral triple particle beam turret and an array of smaller point defense turrets. Although her real firepower came from the synchro cannon mounted within her hull, the triple turret was still quite an effective anti-ship weapon.

* * *

Branmer did not know what the second sphere of light was, but it was apparent what the results were. The crippled human ship had somehow been replaced by a smaller, fresh ship of unknown design that began firing a triple cannon turret moments after the sphere faded. When the ship's maw opened and unleashed a fearsome beam of energy that speared another _Shargoti_, that was when he understood the threat it posed.

"All available ships, target that ship!"

* * *

"_Cyclops_ to _Hermes_, what's your status?" Capt. Grant asked as her ship came upon the other ship. Both EA ships had been badly damaged, _Hermes_ from being caught in the middle of the Minbari formation and _Cyclops_ from the strafing shots to her sides, belly, and back as they blasted and rammed their way toward _Hermes_.

That the gravitic sensor feed had died not long ago did not bode well.

"Sensors are out," Lochley replied. "Synchro cannon's out. We're all out of tricks here."

"_Cyclops_, _Hermes_, this is Admiral Sarnow," broke in a third voice. "Get the hell out of here, you two!"

"Don't have to tell me twice," Grant muttered. She glanced over, "As soon as we're with _Hermes_, open up a jump point. And see if you can open it up right in the boneheads' formation, while you're at it."

"Aye, Captain."

* * *

As the jump point opened, it shredded and destroyed two _Sharlins_ and three _Tinashis_.

The humans' tenacity impressed Branmer. He was a good tactician and strategist -- it was why he had been raised to the rank of Shai Alyt and given command of the war -- but that was not his true calling. His skill stemmed not from any great insight into strategy or military operations, but rather, it was because he understood how people's minds worked on a level that tended to escape those raised in the Warrior Caste. The humans had, time and again, proven themselves a daring, resourceful, and tenacious people, and this last stunning string of maneuvers -- maneuvers no sane warrior would attempt -- was simply another example of that.

It was almost a pity the humans had to be exterminated. This was a holy war, but he suspected they would have been a fascinating species to study.

He turned his attention back to the battle and noted with some puzzlement that the humans seemed to be having difficulty engaging them again. Their accuracy had degraded sharply.

He wondered what that meant... and prayed Neroon's assault on the home planet would go well.

* * *

Author's Postscript:

REALLY long chapter this time, but wow, what a ride, huh?

Some terminology, just in case it's needed, either now or in the future.

UEEF: United Earth Expeditionary Force. Shadow Chronicles has officially retconned this name for what was until recently known as the Robotech Expeditionary Force.

UEG: United Earth Government. This is the overarching political body that ruled Earth and the human colonies during much of the Robotech era.


	7. Chapter 6

Title: The Thin Grey Line: Breaking the Oath (6/6) 

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Nothing worse than on the shows, except maybe language.

Spoilers: After the end of one and before the beginning of the other.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: As the Earth Alliance fights desperately to hold off the Minbari's genocidal rampage, humanity plays a desperate gamble for survival.

Author's Note: Beware the vorpal plot bunny. I would also like to thank Drake the Archr for his outstanding beta work and fact-finding for this story.

* * *

It was the eve of the Third Age of mankind, after the Great Oath was broken. It was the year we repaid our debt.

The Sentinels would stand with the humans once more, and victory seemed possible now, where before there was only the certainty of destruction. One ship would lead the charge to defend the humans.

One mighty flagship, never alone, even in the darkest night.

It is the Earth year 2247. The name of the ship is _Pioneer_.

* * *

G'Kar brooded. He was aboard _G'Lan_, a _G'Quan_-class heavy cruiser, the only ship he had been able to acquire, despite calling in every favor owed him. They were currently en route to the humans' home star system. The crew was a skeleton crew made up of volunteers who knew what they were going into: almost certain death.

He had not, despite his best efforts, been able to convince the rest of the Kha'Ri to bring the full might of the Narn Regime in on the humans' side, but they were prepared to let him have one ship. They probably intended to declare him rogue if the Minbari won, while taking advantage of his presence if the humans won. His failure at arranging a peace negotiation between the humans and the Minbari still bothered him, and a part of him was afraid that all his talk of earning the humans' aid against the Centauri was merely a smokescreen... that he was dooming this ship and her crew for the sake of a guilty conscience and not for the sake of Narn.

Officially, they were carrying a shipment of weapons sold to the humans and were to offer to help transport civilians away from Earth. Unofficially, they were there to lend one more ship and a few more guns to the humans' struggle for survival.

"Sir, we have a sensor contact coming in low on our starboard side."

"**What?**" he turned in surprise. "Can we identify it? Is it Minbari?"

"It's a Drazi _Sunhawk_, sir."

"The Drazi?" G'Kar blinked. "Why would they be heading for Earth? Contact them."

"This is Drokan, captain of the private yacht _Flameseeker_," came the deep rumbling voice of the Drazi captain.

_"Private yacht"?_ G'Kar thought, his brow shooting for the ceiling. _That must be the most blatant lie I've ever heard told._

How anyone could calmly claim a 350-meter-long cruiser was a "private yacht" was beyond G'Kar. It certainly took courage to make such a ludicrous claim. Then again, courage was one thing the Drazi were known for having little shortage of.

It seemed someone **else** had chosen to skirt treason in order to do what was right.

"This is G'Kar, aboard the, ah, Narn Regime armed freight ship _G'Lan_. Might I invite you aboard, Captain Drokan? I believe we have... much in common."

* * *

"All hands, prepare for fold," Sheridan said quietly, glancing out the bridge viewports to the blue sphere that he was fighting to protect. As soon as they'd arrived, they'd been challenged, and the president herself had called him on Gold Channel, informing him of the situation at Cyrus III. "Have all the Sentinel ships maintain position within the fold sphere. Navigation, plot a fold to the Cyrus system."

"Bridge, Engineering," came Cmdr. Leeds's voice; Sheridan could hear the fold drive powering up over the comm. "Sir, I thought Doctor Nichols made it clear we'd fry the fold drive if we folded this quickly."

"She did, Commander," he replied. "But the president has just informed me that a massive Minbari fleet has a third of EarthForce tied up at Cyrus III, and the prospects there don't look good. That's a day and a half, two days away by hyperspace at best."

"Understood, Captain."

"All ships are maintaining position."

"Commence fold."

* * *

When the Sentinel fleet arrived, it threw the Minbari fleet into confusion.

During Col. Edward's attempted coup d'etat, _Pioneer_'s forward twin reflex cannons had been heavily damaged and replaced by a pair of synchro cannons. They had not actually been removed, however, and had in fact been repaired to operational capacity. During the following Haydonite War, Admiral Hunter had ordered power to the synchro cannons manually disengaged and reactivated the long-dormant reflex cannons, tearing the ship's bow apart. Repairs had been made, and the synchro cannons had never been reinstituted, even after they had found a counter to the disruptor wave. That was the incarnation of _Pioneer_ that had been waiting for the Pegasus mission in the cache.

Massive twin beams of pure destruction slashed a deadly swathe through the Minbari fleet, destroying dozens and damaging hundreds of Minbari ships with a single volley.

A split-second later, the rest of the Sentinel fleet added their own voices to the chorus of devastation. Karbarran mass drivers belched fractional-cee transuranic sabot shells, and Tirolian particle beams lanced out in a deadly storm of fire. Garudan mindbeams channeled pure psionic power into deadly lances of energy that slashed the Minbari formation, even as the Spherian guns spat crystalline shards that struck the Minbari ships, then morphed and attacked with primitive minds of their own.

And here and there, a Perytonian ship would dart around, occasionally lashing out with a single purple beam that would slice through Minbari armor like a hot knife through butter.

* * *

Captain K'Don of the SAS _Hayes_ felt his ship shudder under another impact and resisted the urge to unleash a savage laugh. His people may have been builders, but this was where **he** belonged, in the heat of battle.

"We've lost pressure from Layers One and Two, Bands Nine through Sixteen, Sectors Three through Five!"

"Casualties?" he demanded.

"Seventeen!"

"Return fire!" he roared. "Maximum barrage! All secondary weapons, fire at will!"

"We have three Minbari cruisers approaching, sixty degrees relative, ten degrees below the plane!" reported Inze.

"Helm, hard to starboard, sixty degrees, down plane ten degrees! Guns, ready the mass drivers for salvo fire!"

As the gun cruiser spun like a top, it briefly lined up its bow with the lead Minbari war cruiser and spat out two salvos of two tiny, transuranic sabot shells at a significant fraction of light speed, penetrating the Minbari ship with ease and emerging out the other side to smash into the war cruiser behind it.

* * *

Shai Alyt Branmer watched in amazement as the attack fell apart within minutes. After the two human ships had fled, the battle had taken a turn for the better. Just before they left, the humans seemed to have difficulty targeting the Minbari ships once more, and while their fighters were no easier to detect, the capital ship battle had swung back heavily in the Minbari's favor.

And then these new ships arrived. There were no jump points. Just a sphere of light like the one that had replaced that one human ship with the other, only much larger. And the ships that appeared were unfamiliar and disparate, obviously a coalition of some sort that had chosen to aid the humans.

He glanced down as the penultimate _Shargoti_ crumbled, punctured through and through by the new arrivals' weapons. Only one _Shargoti_ remained, and that was his flagship.

No, they would not win this battle.

"All ships," he murmured regretfully. "Retreat."

* * *

Sineval watched gloatingly the human ship drifted listlessly, shedding lifepods in all directions. A lucky shot had touched off one of _Kratos_'s fighter fuel bays, breaking her back, and the mighty dreadnought writhed, dying, some of her weapons still firing in a lethal death spasm as the most loyal, the most foolhardy gunners remained at their posts until the bitter end.

And then the order to retreat came.

* * *

President Levy looked up in shock, "They attacked Sinzar?"

"Yes, ma'am," Admiral Alexander nodded. "Refugees just came through the jump gate. They just wiped it out and kept moving. They've probably already hit Proxima and are on their way to Earth as we speak. The Cyrus assault was a diversion. They'll likely be here within hours."

"How many ships?" she asked.

"It's unclear," he said, "but judging from reports, I'd say there's maybe two, three hundred war cruisers, plus three of the new big ships, all with their accompanying fighters. No indication of any other support ships."

"What do we have in system? And what can we bring in in time?"

"Not enough," Alexander shook his head. "Maybe five thousand starfuries, a hundred cruisers, and fifty dreadnoughts, and only a handful are refits. We do have one _SuperNova_, though, EAS _Macross_, but that's it."

"The Grand Cannon?" she asked, looking over at General Lefcourt hopefully.

"Not even close to operational," Lefcourt replied, shaking his head. He heaved a sigh. "And even if it were, it would only cover a fraction of the planet."

"A fraction still would have been better than none," she said quietly. She turned to the admiral, "Bring them in, Hamish. Bring them all in. If we can hold them off long enough, maybe the Cyrus task force can come save us all."

* * *

Drokan was an old Drazi. He remembered the Dilgar War, and he remembered what had happened to his people when the Dilgar came. More than that, he had been an aide to the Drazi Freehold's ambassador to the League of Non-Aligned Worlds at the time, and he had witnessed how the League had fallen apart when they had needed to unite.

He was seeing the same self-serving reactions from both the leaders of his own world and the rest of the League, now that the Minbari marched on the humans. Oh, certainly, they argued that it was different this time.

"The Minbari are not like the Dilgar," they had said. "They are a peaceful people," they had said. "It was the humans who had started the war," they had said.

But the humans had also attempted to make reparations. They had tried to turn over the human who had started it. They had repeatedly offered an unconditional surrender.

And the Minbari did not listen. The humans may have started the war, but it was the **Minbari** who were continuing it. Just as they had against the Garmak six hundred and fifty Drazi years ago, though at least they hadn't intended to exterminate the Garmak then. They were genocidal maniacs, just like the Dilgar were.

And if they could be driven to such madness once, then they could be driven to it again. And when that happened, who would feel their unstoppable wrath then? The Narns? The Centauri? The Brakiri?

The Drazi?

And if the pattern held true, then the fate of their next victims would be even worse. First, the Garmak, their military crushed, left helpless against the Centauri. Now, the humans, to be exterminated as a species, wiped out until they are nothing but a memory. Then... what next? It was an escalation that could only lead to a level of horror that would rival the Dilgar.

No, the Minbari had to be stopped **now**, and if the only way to get his people to unite with the humans was to drag them into the war, kicking and screaming, then he would do it.

Besides, his people owed the humans, and the time to repay that debt was now.

There were others who agreed with him, though perhaps not quite understanding the level of thought he had put into it. It was they who now crewed _Flameseeker_. The other Drazi in the crew did not understand what Drokan did, how stopping the Minbari was best for all Drazi and all civilized people, but they did understand right from wrong, honor from dishonor, courage from cowardice.

There was a saying: "If you cannot do something smart, then do something **right**."

Only about half the crew was actually Drazi. The rest were about evenly divided between Balosians, Brakiri, and Markab, with a handful of Hyach and even Abbai filling the gaps. The Balosians were already risking the Minbari's wrath by accepting human refugees, and Drokan could not, in good conscience, ask them to risk more, but they had caught wind of his suicidal plan and insisted; had he not been short on crew, he would have refused. These others understood what Drokan did, and while they all feared going the way of the Garmak, stripped of their defenses and at the mercy of their neighbors, they also knew why they were doing this... why they **must** do this.

It was apparent to Drokan that the Narn, G'Kar, felt the same way, and so it was that they had devised a plan by which they would approach the humans and offer their aid... and battle plans should they arrive too late for words.

"His name is Tirk," he overheard one of his crewmembers -- who was it? Ah, yes, Tuzak -- exclaim proudly. Tuzak was an unusually large Drazi. Shipboard duty did not suit him, really, but he had a love for space that would not be denied.

"That's not a Drazi name, is it?" frowned Flameseeker's executive officer, a Brakiri woman named Resha Ak-Habil who had once hunted raiders on one of her corporation's _Avioki_-class cruisers, which gave her valuable combat experience. Her father had died on board the dreadnought _Corumai_ during the Dilgar War.

"It isn't," Jumar interjected. "His wife named the boy. It means 'Don't touch me, I'm not having another child after this, ever!'"

Tuzak coughed in embarrassment.

* * *

Cmdr. Jeffrey David Sinclair -- he had been promoted for his role in training the EA's small corps of veritech pilots and devising tactics and strategies for them -- sat in the cockpit of his Shadow Alpha. In some ways, the shadow fighters weren't actually as good as starfuries against the Minbari, since their heavy missile payloads were largely ineffective against Minbari stealth, but he had grown comfortable with the durable craft, and he had a few surprises in mind.

He was going to be launching from _Macross_'s hangar bays. The _SuperNova_-class dreadnought's fighter bays had been built to be flexible, able to accept either veritechs or starfuries, unlike the other ships in the fleet.

The president's voice echoed over his radio. It was being broadcast on all frequencies.

"This is the president. I have just been informed that our mid-range military bases at Sinzar and Proxima III have fallen to the Minbari advance. We have lost contact with Io and must conclude that they too have fallen to an advance force. Our military intelligence believes that the Minbari intend to bypass Mars and hit Earth directly, and the attack may come at any time. Once, we would have surrendered and begged for mercy, and we tried, many times, but now, we understand that the Minbari have none. In order to buy more time for reinforcements to arrive, we ask for the support of every ship capable of fighting to take part in the defense of our home world. Help **is** coming, but we need to survive until they get here. We will not lie to you. We do not believe many of you who fight will survive. We believe that most of the people who join this battle will never come home. But for every ten minutes we can delay the military advance, our reinforcements are that much closer to home. No greater sacrifice has ever been asked of a people, but I ask you now, to step forward one last time. One last battle to hold the line against the night! May God go with you all."

* * *

"The truth points to itself."

Satai Delenn wondered what that meant as the _Valen'tha_, mobile home for the Grey Council, followed in the wake of Alyt Neroon's advance toward the humans' home planet. Suddenly, a great light flared from ahead, though she could not see what caused it.

* * *

While the _Valen'tha_ was too far back for the Grey Council to see what caused the light, the Minbari warriors in the forward elements of the fleet could see it clearly. A great being of light had arrived, bringing with it a fleet of ships, including one massive ship that measured a full four kilometers long.

When the war ended, there would be a great many warriors who would forsake their caste and joined the Religious Caste.

When the ships surged forward to engage the Minbari, unleashing the fury of literally hundreds -- if not thousands -- of weapons, even the most ardent of the Warrior Caste began to have doubts. Within minutes, the van of the Minbari fleet crumbled under fire from weapons that could decimate a continent.

* * *

Sinclair wasn't aware of any of this. He had acquitted himself well, even managing to rip one Minbari fighter apart with his veritech's bare hands, but he had lost. His missiles were spent, and his gun pod was a molten lump of slag half a kilometer away. Determined to stop the Minbari at any cost, he brought his fighter around to face the nearest Minbari war cruiser and hit his afterburners.

* * *

"A prisoner? Very well. Choose quickly."

Delenn looked around and saw the human fighter heading toward them, accelerating rapidly, apparently intent on ramming them. Kosh's words echoed in her thoughts: "The truth points to itself."

"That one."

* * *

G'Kar held a stoic expression as _G'Lan_ was hammered by the Minbari. Their sensors could not detect the Minbari ships, and they were being forced to target them manually, an effort that was almost futile. The smaller and more agile _Flameseeker_ was faring somewhat better.

"Jump points opening! It's the Centauri!"

"**Whaaat?!**" G'Kar sputtered as he turned to stare at _G'Lan_'s sensor operator, who simply looked back at him, shrugged, then turned back to his console.

"_Primus_-class battlecruisers... _Vorchan_-class attack cruisers... it's the Imperial Navy!" He blinked, "They're attacking the Minbari!"

G'Kar digested that and leaned back into his seat. He had a decision to make.

"It... **physically**... pains me to say this," he ground out through gritted teeth, "but... do **not** fire on the Centauri."

Destiny is rife with moments of great change, when a single decision could determine the course of billions of lives.

One such moment had just passed.

* * *

Captain Diane Phillips clutched her armrest in a white-knuckled grip as another attack broke through _Macross_'s defenses. The _SuperNova_-class dreadnought was a powerful ship, easily capable of facing a Minbari war cruiser one on one, but they had been caught in the middle of the Minbari formation and were now taking attacks from all sides as the Minbari sought to finish them off before moving against the reinforcements which, moments ago, had arrived in a flash of light like a personal delivery from God.

"Captain, we've got more incoming," her sensor operator reported. "They're attacking the Minbari."

"The Cyrus force?"

"No, ma'am. I'm reading... a Drazi _Sunhawk_... a Narn heavy cruiser... and two Centauri battlecruisers. They're taking a beating."

Diane frowned. What were **they** doing here? And why and how in the nine **billion** names of God were Narns and Centauri working **together**?!

She shook it off and opened her mouth to order a course change, when suddenly, the Minbari stopped firing.

"Captain," whispered her communications officer. "It's... I don't believe it. The Minbari... they're surrendering."

Diane slumped back into the captain's chair, "Well, I'll be damned. Three miracles in a row. **Someone's** lookin' out for us."

* * *

"This is President Elizabeth Levy of the Earth Alliance. We have been forced to reveal many of our secrets in this war. The Minbari are not the first to threaten the survival of the human species, and I suspect they will not be the last. Five times we have faced extinction at the hands of others, and five times we have survived. As we did before, when we faced the Children of Shadow, while standing in the twilight of oblivion, we have learned who our true friends are. And we will not forget.

"This war began out of a misunderstanding, one that nearly led to the extermination of our race. In the interest of preventing such a catastrophe from happening again -- to anyone -- the Earth Alliance and our allies in the Sentinel Alliance would like to announce the Babylon Project. The Babylon Station will be located in neutral space between several major governments. It will provide a place for us to work out our problems peacefully. It is, we believe, our last, best hope for peace."

"And so, it begins," the redhead murmured as she watched the broadcast of the president's speech.

A young man with unruly greenish-blond hair and reddish-brown eyes walked up behind her and placed an arm across her shoulders, "Thank you, Aunt Ariel."

"I did what I had to, Rick."

* * *

Author's Postscript:

Another long chapter, but that finishes up this part of the story.

Credit must go to LightningCount, aka Lord of Misrule, since it was his fanfic, The Dilgar War, that inspired me to come up with _Flameseeker_ and her crew.

By the way, just out of curiousity, who do you imagine speaking each of the monologues that begin each chapter?


End file.
